


Never is Enough

by Sharken (orphan_account)



Category: Original Work
Genre: First Person, Gen, Other, Present Tense, and she's an assistant librarian, it's a college library btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25193740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Sharken
Summary: Let nobody fucking say that becoming an assistant librarian is a good idea. If anybody tells you that, they are lying to you, full stop. Don’t trust them.(The next time her partner gives her a suggestion on how she can get college credits, Cynthia isn't going to listen to them.)
Relationships: Original Character/Original Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5
Collections: Original Works Opportunity 2020





	Never is Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skatzaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatzaa/gifts).



> Hi, thanks for the really good prompts! I thought pretty hard about which one I wanted to choose, but I decided that this one could allow me to practice some things I don't have that much experience in, so I decided to give it a go. I played around with the prompt a bit, though I'm pretty sure I've hit on it in spirit without violating any DNWs. 
> 
> Credit for the title goes to the song of the same name by the Barenaked Ladies. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Let nobody fucking say that becoming an assistant librarian is a good idea. If anybody tells you that, they are lying to you, full stop. Don’t trust them. “Oh, Whatever-Your-Name-Is, it’s an easy job, and you’ll get free college credits! It’ll look great on your transcript for law school!” They’ll undoubtedly say, in their most earnest voice. They’ll sound so persuasive, and they’ll give you a winning smile, and you’ll give in because they’re just so cute when they smile like that, and clearly all they want to do is help you, so why not just go along with it?

It’s a fucking trap. And by the time you realize the trap is being sprung around you, it’ll be far too late. Let me break it down for you: The fact is that you don’t get paid, you spend half your day just sitting at a desk, and most of the time absolutely nothing fucking happens. 

Exhibit A: Right now. I’m just sitting at aforementioned library desk way too early in the morning, the library being absolutely deserted. I stand behind the desk, feeling like a woman on a deserted island. 

I check my silver wristwatch again: the little hands inform me that it’s 9:05 AM. So it’s been five minutes since I checked last time- felt like five hours, but there you go. That’s time for you. I repeatedly rap the knuckle of my right index against the polished wood of the desk dully. The sound faithfully echoes back, but otherwise I’m bathed in a suffocating silence. The Drama Queen part of my brain ponders if this is what being imprisoned in a tomb feels like.

To be fair, it’s not like there’s absolutely _nothing_ I could do- there’s a mystery novel I’m borrowing sitting on a nearby table by my backpack, for example, but I just spent the last hour regaling myself with the adventures of Philo Vance and I really want to do something else. Shame there weren’t exactly many options. 

I decide to just wander around the first floor, the sound of my tennis shoes squeaking against the polished tiling adding some much appreciated background noise. It’s a pretty big place, but Hartford College is a pretty well funded school, so that makes sense. The large wooden library desk is situated in the middle of the room- it's sort of an island in the middle of an ocean of tables and shelving. The tables are primarily evenly situated around the library desk, acting as sort of sentinels, watchful for intruders upon their domain. There’s a couple near the room's back corners too, where students can read and chat in private if they feel like it, as well as several desks taken up by huge gray computers that probably still run on Windows '98 and a set of large black printers. 

On the first floor there are quite a few shelves- twenty six in all, though they’re evenly cleaved into two sides- the right side is devoted to fiction, the left non-fiction: textbooks, biographies, various research materials, and whatnot. On both sides things are divided alphabetically by author, with handy labels on the side telling people exactly which shelf corresponds to which letters.

The library is honestly not particularly special in other respects either- there’s little helpful signs informing people that eating and talking in the library are absolutely not welcome. Not that anybody bothers to listen. I'm supposed to discipline them but by and large I let it slide; it's not like I'm any better.

I peruse the shelves. I go down the right side first. My eyes flick from wooden shelf to wooden shelf utterly uninterested, my eyes mindlessly gazing at the little typed labels. I reach up slightly and brush my hand against them as I trudge forward. The laminated white paper feels slick on my fingers as it shines in the library’s bright artificial lighting. 

On a whim I walk through some of the shelves and back again; the shelves are equidistant from each other, and separated widely enough to allow for a student to have a significant amount of breathing room as they traverse them. My eyes move from book to book to book. I run my fingers against a couple.

The books are organized absolutely perfectly, I assure you- books of various sizes and titles carefully set in order of author's name, the sizes varying of thin white pamphlet-sized works to weighty black behemoths, all in the right order. It's part of my job and I take pride in my work, thank you very much. 

Well, okay, there's also a few cases where I got a little lazy and the books are stacked horizontally at the shelves' ends. I may take pride in my work, but that doesn't mean I'm afraid to cut corners when I want. Not like my boss is ever around, so there's nobody to stop me. I'd blame it on the students anyway. 

After probably around ten minutes of meandering, I eventually reach the large wooden entrance door. I promptly spin on my heel and look down the left side of the library floor in the same fashion. Everything is the same as on the right. The same wooden shelves, the same laminated labels, books of various appearance, the organization of said books (nearly) absolutely perfect. Honestly, things aren’t particularly different than they are any other day. Not like there was any reason to think they would be, I guess? Especially since I’d already done this little patrol twice since I came in. 

But the first floor being boring as hell isn’t hugely surprising- the first floor of the library isn’t what is special about this place. 

You see, the library has _two_ floors. You can reach the second floor by climbing one of two short sets of steel stairs worn down slightly by rust; there’s one on the left side and one on the right side of the first floor respectively.

The second floor is admittedly a bit more interesting. You see, the Hartford Library has one of the widest collections of magical literature in southern California. Books on magical theory, basic spellcasting, elven culture, demonic summoning (a rather questionable choice, in my opinion, but nobody asked me), we’ve got it all. I bet it’s the one of the main reasons why students decide to attend this place at all, aside from its relatively cheap price point. 

I’d much rather go upstairs and check out the actually interesting stuff, but I’d probably get in trouble if people came in and I missed them because I was distracted upstairs, so I don’t go up there unless I’m doing my job or I’m grabbing a book to borrow. 

As a result, my little library adventure is over for the time being, I guess. Back to the grindstone. I go back to one of the tables next to the desk, sit down, and go back to reading my novel, trying to beat the tedium back while I wait for something to fucking happen. 

* * *

  
It takes roughly another goddamn hour before people actually start coming in. Better late than fucking never, I guess. 

The students start coming in as a slight trickle- one or two pop in to check out books, or to print something at one of the computer tables. Around 30 minutes later, though, that trickle starts to become a stream, students rushing in as a collective mass, going into various shelves or wandering upstairs to do who-knows-what. 

Now, there are roughly two types of students that come into the library. The first are the people that are here for your average education, and aren’t supremely interested in all of that pesky “magic” stuff. 

Honestly, after a while, you become rather adept at recognizing this group on sight, and the two kids in front of the desk right now fit the description perfectly. They’re both wearing a t-shirt and blue jeans. 

The boy, with a blue shirt, has that sort of stereotypical “nerd” look- you’ve seen teen movies, right? Then you probably know the sort of look I mean. Relatively thin build with a touch of fat, wide-rimmed glasses, face with a lot of baby fat, a forehead still pock-marked with acne, the works. Really not my thing, though I suppose nobody asked. His hands are awkwardly stuffed in his pockets.

The girl, in a black shirt, looks a bit cute though, I suppose. Long black hair- a similar tinge to my own, though hers’ is not tied into a back-reaching ponytail. Bright green eyes. A slim figure, though not unhealthily so, with a few curves here and there. She has a shiny silver a crucifix hanging off her neck that glints in the light, her fingers running across it slowly, almost experimentally.

Both of the kids are glancing over at me expectantly, and I put my game face on. 

“Hello, welcome to the library. My name is Cynthia. Are you two together?” I ask, with as sweet an affect to my voice as I can manage. Which admittedly isn’t that sweet, but y’know, gotta give me an A for effort, right?

Both of them flush red, and I quickly gather that they got entirely the wrong impression from my question. I restrain myself from letting out a deep, frustrated sigh. I take a breath and try to reframe.

“Here. Are you two here together. Do you need my help with the same thing?” If a bit of surliness enters my tone, I actively choose to not blame myself for it. 

“O-Oh! N-No!” The boy stammers out, while I am bombarded with second-hand embarrassment. “I’m just curious if the book Discourse of the Method is in? I need it for a paper, so…”

I force a smile and give him a nod. “Sure, sir,” I say- a bit formal, sure, but I find that formality helps me keep myself in check, especially when I’m frustrated. 

I think for a moment. Discourse of the Method… that was like… Descartes or something, right? I quickly tap some keys on the bulky white box that is our main computer, located at the center of the desk, to confirm that my memory wasn’t failing me in my young age. (I wish the library could invest in something fancier in terms of tech, but the ambient magical energy in here absolutely fucks with most more modern electronics. So you take what you can get.)

After around 5 fucking minutes of loading, it turns out that I was right about the old dead guy that wrote it, and luckily for the dude I'm helping, the lack of a red highlight in the database indicates that it shouldn't be checked out. 

“That book should be available, and it would be in the non-fiction section on the 'C to D' shelf, sir.” He gives a weak nod, clearly not excited at having to walk back, but resigned to his fate. He walks off at a rather quick clip, and I turn my gaze to the girl. 

“So, um, I couldn’t find The Advent of the Typewriter by Lawrence Kurtz? I was hoping you could come help me?” The girl tilts her head in curiosity, like it wasn't my job to do exactly that. Her left hand fiddles with her crucifix a bit.

I assent and lead her to the section in question, and quickly figure out the problem- the book had been misplaced, and the paperback was mushed between two particularly hefty green hardbacks, which would make it tricky to find. That was probably my bad, I guess? But hey, no getting on my case about it. Nobody's perfect, right? 

I quickly hand it to her, and send her on her way. 

And that sort of thing accounts for roughly fifty-percent of my work this morning. Just tapping at a computer and looking for books on a bookshelf. Not exactly riveting stuff. I would say that it at least pays the bills, but of course, it does nothing of the sort.

* * *

  
There is also Student type Number Two.

They definitely have a very… different... aesthetic from type number one. This one in particular is decked in a sleek and shiny black robe that covered most of their body. Very subtle. This guy is looking at me as though we share some kind of dark, mysterious secret in a way that almost makes me roll my eyes. 

In case you were wondering, I'm kind of a mix of the aesthetic of Type 1 and Type 2. I'm wearing a peach dress to fashionably contrast my caramel skin, but with a long light red robe spooling down my back, with a pink blouse. Not exactly a Sexy Librarian look, but I like to think that I TOTALLY rock it.

He, meanwhile, is slightly overweight- not enough to be too noticeable, but his gut does stick out a bit through the robe. He has blonde hair with a severe case of bedhead too, and pasty white skin that gave the impression that he didn't really go out much; an impression definitely supported by basically everything else.

“What can I do for you, sir?” Honestly the fact that I didn’t slip in a sarcastic jab really spoke to the level of experience I have with people like him. 

“So, I want to know where the… special books are. The ones about things that fly over the head of your average student.” He puts emphasis on the word "fly." Oh my god, this guy even speaks in code. Biggest dork I’ve had, like, all day. 

“Okay, Levitation is upstairs, sir. I'll take you.” I say calmly, with only a hint of amusement, leading him to and up the metal stairs. The steps creak slightly against our footfalls as we traverse upward. 

On paper, the second floor of the library looks similar to the first. The layout isn’t particularly different- a bunch of wooden shelves (ten on each side) with a bunch of books on them with a bunch of wooden tables scattered throughout. However, the differences become readily apparent at a closer glance. For instance, rather than being in alphabetical order, they’re ordered by topic. 

Which makes sense- certain types of books being with the others could prove rather… inconvenient for a lot of reasons. For one thing, several sections are cordoned off with a protection spell that can only be removed with the assistance of one of the library workers, a professor, or school administrator; otherwise it just shoves you back, your ass crashing onto the ground. (Not that I know from personal experience! But I’ve seen a lot of saps that didn’t know better getting tossed on their butts.) 

There’s also the books that move on their own will, like the Conscious Book of Consciousness- I’ve always been concerned about the ethics of having a book that is self-aware, but nobody seems to care aside from me- that just wanders around the Mental Magic section as it pleases. Nobody is quite sure how that works, but nobody really questions it. Probably for the best.

And then, of course, there’s our Levitation section. I lead this dude to the shelf in question, and we see various books soaring in the air, fluttering this way and that. In theory, the “fun” part of navigating this section is figuring out which airborne book is the one that the person wants; they rarely stay still long enough for you to check their spine after all, and there’s always so many floating this way and that. It’s a colorful swarm of books, hardcover and paperback alike, simply sailing en masse wherever they please. Needless to say, searching individually gets rather tedious.

So I tend to cheat a bit. I close my eyes, clap my hands together, and summon a burst of magic- there's a slight red-colored spark in the air as I release it, but otherwise it looks like I was just waving my right hand. It's a simple stunning spell- you kind of need to learn this one if you want to pursue this line of work. The books immediately fall and clatter to the ground at once, most of them bouncing off their side, some ending up face-first, pages getting mushed as they hit the floor. More than one of these books are not exactly in great condition precisely because of this sort of nonsense. 

My new friend goes through the books, checking to see if the one they're looking for is on the ground or still on the (now somewhat unoccupied) shelving. Shortly thereafter the dude finds the book he is looking near the back of the shelf, and I lead him back downstairs. After a swift and inauspicious farewell, I get back to work. 

* * *

The other main thing I whittle my mornings away doing is basic inventory, making sure that no books are damaged beyond repair, making sure that everything that should be in stock is in stock, that sort of thing.

For the first floor, this is pretty basic stuff. Just print out a list, and check things off. Maybe flip through the pages to make sure everything is at least in passable condition, and then call it a day.

Second floor? A bit harder.

I walk up the steps and enter our little storeroom of magical knowledge. My eyes flit to the tables,where a few students are quietly chatting animatedly about some or other, a girl at one of the tables gesticulating with her arms as she talks to the boy seated across from her.

The tables are largely like the tables downstairs, though there are some noticeable black scorchmarks left over from when past arguments devolved into magical duels; that's never happened while I was on the clock, of course, which absolutely sucks. Getting to watch one of those sounds so badass. 

I'd break it up, of course, like a responsible assistant librarian! After a bit.

Another contrast is the lack of computer desks- the magic energy might mess a bit with technology downstairs, but upstairs? Don't even try. Even my analogue watch gets a bit fucky sometimes.

But aside from that: you have your equidistant shelves, the "No Eating and Talking" signs nobody gives a shit about, and so on. Second verse, same as the first. 

I scan the "Magical Items" shelf first; nothing really out of the ordinary here. Looks like some brats put some books back out of order, so I quickly reset them. A lot of the books here are especially bulky, metaphorical bricks of various colors that sit rimrod straight against each other. Honestly, they look rather imposing- I pity the sap who has to deal with these things when finishing their classwork.

A couple of the books have nearly invisible red marks where some kind of spell on them went wrong, but it didn't seem to have significantly damaged the texts, so I moved on. Most publishers made their books at least somewhat spell-resistant for this exact reason. It sucks a bit that if you lose your place you need to find it again the "normal" way, but it is what it is.

I go through a few other shelves, and everything is in order and in stock that should be. I have to get the Levitation section back under control again, but it's no big fuss. Everything is in stock, nothing severely damaged. A few bent pages and marks on the covers at worst. All's good. 

I then grimace as I head to the restricted areas- the stuff that regular students aren't supposed to get their mitts on without asking me. However, there's always the chance that somebody broke in somehow, or a library worker smuggled a book out without doing the necessary paperwork, which is one reason inventory here is especially important.

Given that there's students studying at the nearby tables I make sure to quietly mutter the passphrase, giving me access to the entire section; I can hear am almost inaudible hum as the invisible barrier dissipates. 

The head librarian is the one that is supposed to do this, but after an incident I somehow got blamed for, I quickly learned that the asshole basically never fucking does it. So the job got "delegated" to me. 

I look down at my list, and start checking things off with a pencil. Beginner's Guide to Curses, check. How To Befriend Devils, check. Exorcism for Dummies, check. 

As I go through the checklist, I can hear a very quiet murmuring from some of the books- it's never been clear to me if these books actually can talk to each other, or if it's dark magic playing tricks on my perception. It's kind of creepy either way, though.

And then, as I march forward, I hear a squishing sound as my right foot steps on something, and I groan as I look down. There's a slick, dark green liquid stuck on the back of my shoe, extending from where I stepped to the end of the shelf. 

This is the _other_ reason doing inventory is important. It turns out that our wards are not really effective at keeping ghosts and wraiths out, and they get their ectoplasm fucking everywhere; I'm sure whatever books they touched are an absolute mess too. And, what do you know, when I follow the trail I see many of the book's spines covered in green gunk. 

The stuff on the floor is fortunately the janitor's problem, not mine. On the other hand, the books' condition is, frustratingly, absolutely my business. Making sure that nobody was waiting downstairs, I grab a cleaning cloth from one of the front desk's cabinets, and quickly get to work.

* * *

By the time 1 P.M. arrives, I’ve become even more impatient for my shift to end. The drudgery of this job wears one down pretty quickly, yet the reprieves you get end up being duller still. Maybe that's why the Head Librarian never comes in in the mornings- maybe the tedium of the job broke him or something, so he foists everything onto me and any other idiot that took this gig. 

Regardless, it is around lunch time, which meant it was, thankfully, the end of my shift. I am gathering my books when I hear a soft voice behind me. 

“Hey, I’m looking for a really cute library assistant. You have one in stock, right?”

I spin around, and there was my partner, Jamie Grisham. With the kind of smirk on their face that makes me desperately want to knock them down a peg.

“You’re fucking terrible at flirting,” I say. But I'm smiling. 

“I try, my love.” Jamie gives a slightly theatrical bow, their head lowering to chest-length. They gaze at me, not even breaking the pose. “But seriously, you ready to head out and get a bite to eat?” 

I pause for a second, and take in Jamie's appearance. Short, slick black hair, flawless tanned skin, long arms with firm and well-developed biceps, and legs that go for absolute miles with just as much detail and some lean muscle. They're wearing a nice leather jacket and tight jeans that play off of every single part of their figure far too well, while also accentuating the hints of smooth curves around their waist. _Rawr._

Jamie doesn't seem to mind the pause as I rather blatantly check them out, and after I spend a moment collecting myself I respond. 

“I have some schoolwork to do; would you mind if we ate here?”

Jamie lets out an over-exaggerated gasp, putting their hand over their mouth. “Eating? In the library? Cynthia, you’re proving to be something of a rebel. I can’t believe you’d _betray_ the system like this.”

I just roll my eyes. Why are they always like this? “Listen, do you mind or not?” I insisted. A bit of impatience creeps into my voice and I immediately feel guilty about it.

“I think I can go against my principles for you, darling.”

* * *

  
“So, he does some stupid pun on 'flying'! Like the place being magical was some dark secret. Like everyone here doesn’t know what kind of college they go to!” I wave my fork around wildly as I tell the story, speaking with my mouth half full of food. Some noodles hang off the fork’s prongs. 

“Manners, dear.” They say mildly, with a soft grin, taking a bite of their ham sandwich. “You get the weirdest people in here, though, I swear. But then you’re weird, so you know, birds of a feather.” 

I pout. The fact that Jamie is over six feet and towers over me at all times only emphasizes the childishness of the gesture. “I am most assuredly not weird.”

“You’re going into _law_ ,” they insisted, pointing their right ring finger at me. “That’s like, one thousand weirdness points right there.”

I start to fire back at them, but I know that’s exactly what they want, so I decide to let them have this victory.

I take a swig of my soda, and look around for a moment, sparing a glance both at the first floor and upstairs. It feels like there’s probably some kind of poetry to be had here- some nonsense about the mixture of the magical and the mundane. I’m not a fucking poet, though, so you’re on your own. 

A couple minutes later, I notice that Jamie has finished their sandwich and water as they start to speak again. “So, I’m going to head off and get ready for Calc. Meet you in class?” I give them a smile and nod of assent in return.

Before leaving, they give me a quick kiss. Nothing intimate, just a light peck on the cheek, but I can still feel a warm tinging sensation on my skin after they pull away.

I then proceed to watch them walk off- the jeans really emphasize their super cute butt too, I feel I should note.

After they've closed the library door behind them, I quickly finish my own meal and drink. Guess I’d better get to work. I toss my stuff in the trash bin outside and go back upstairs. My eyes unconsciously dart to the back left side of the floor; I can feel the thrum of power from some of our texts on dark magic. In the back of my mind, they start to sing a siren’s song, beckoning me to learn their magics and make their power my own, yadda yadda yadda. After a while you learn to tune that sort of thing out. 

I quickly go to the Magical Law section and find the book I was actually looking for- a book detailing Higher Court rulings on the legality of possession of restricted magical items without a license. It was some homework I had to do for Law 405: I had to jot down the key points in various rulings and note where I agree or disagree with the judges’ conclusions, and note how I would alter the rulings to be more in line with precedent or otherwise established law, should I disagree. 

I actually let out a small smile as I grab the small red paperback- this was my kind of shit, to be honest. Give me analyses of majority opinions over garbage about solving for variables any-day. 

I bring the book down and thwap it onto the nearby table, as I pull my notebook and the worksheet out of my backpack. I decide to borrow (okay, steal) a small yellow pencil from a nearby holder on the desk, and swiftly get to work.

I put all my focus on the worksheet as my boredom evaporates. Before I know it, I have roughly five pages to transcribe onto my laptop. I decide to take care of that after I finish my day of classes. And after I do that I’ll have a whole night to relax, and then this drudgery will begin anew. 


End file.
